OopsI Did It Again I Ran Out of Fuel
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: Just a little fic inspired from when my favorite cousin and I were discussing where the G-boys got their money for their MS fuel


I don't own GW, blah, blah, blah, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah, you know the drill 

**~ Oops...I Did It Again; I Ran Out of Fuel ~**

_Tick, tick, tick,_ the timer sang rather innocently. And then...BOOM! The mobile suit repair and maintenance shop exploded into a million pieces, literally flying through the air in all directions.   
"It's Judgment Day, I tell you! Judgment Day's upon us!"   
"You baka, it's just a bomb!"   
"Oh. Oh, heh, heh, it's just a..._bomb?!"_   
Amidst all the chaos and confusion, nobody noticed a thin, boyish figure stealthily creep away from the storage room, cloaked in shadows. 

**_A few miles away..._**

Heero Yuy dumped the barrels of Vernea rocket engine fuel, needed to run the Wing Gundam Zero, onto the grassy shore of a small river.   
"Mission accomplished," the fifteen-year-old gundam pilot muttered seriously to himself, and promptly picked up a can and began filling the tank of his winged MS. 

* * * 

Duo Maxwell sauntered into the mobile suit supplies store, lugging with him a giant shopping bag of God only knew what. The braided American set his shopping bag onto the polished linoleum floor as he walked up to the counter and asked the salesclerk behind the desk, "How much do two cans of Vernea rocket engine fuel cost?"   
The girl readily named a price, to which Duo squinched up his face in reply. _Yikes! _he thought silently to himself, wincing at the inflated price of the rather rare mobile suit fuel.   
"Oh, well," he muttered to himself, shrugging. "Guess I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, then," before taking his shopping bag and walking into the nearest restroom, selecting two cans of fuel along the way. 

Fifteen minutes later, a slim, violet-eyed girl with flowing, waist-length chestnut hair and excessive makeup strolled out from the direction of the restrooms. One man paused to stare at her as she walked past him.   
"Damn, lady, those little friends of yours are bigger than beach balls!" he remarked.   
"Thanks," the 'girl' called out in a surprisingly masculine voice. 

* * * 

The group of OZ soldiers walked up to the counter of the MS Supplies 'R' Us store, and slammed half a dozen cans of mobile suit fuel onto the counter.   
"Charge all this to the OZ account," the soldier in the lead said loudly to the salesclerk. The tall teenage boy standing behind the counter, his one visible dark green eye discreetly examining the officers, began to dutifully check off the items, not bothering to flick away his gigantic mop of bronze-colored bangs, which was covering his other, barely visible eye. As the cashier finished his task and the OZ soldiers left the store, he quickly glanced over to the windows, where one could see a large flatbed truck with several items protruding from underneath the gigantic canvas tarp which covered its cargo, the objects shaped suspiciously like large barrels of mobile suit fuel. The salesclerk raised a hand-held recording device to his lips and recited into it, "Trowa Barton reporting. Infiltration complete. Objects retrieved. Mission to acquire Vernea fuel is...highly successful." 

* * * 

"Closer, closer, closer," Rasid called out, waving around a couple of red lights at the gigantic blue delivery truck. "Closer...closer...Stop!"   
The truck obediently stopped, and the driver cut the engine and hopped out of his vehicle, opening the back of the truck. The forty Maganacs then proceeded to trot over to the truck, and began unloading the several dozens of barrels of Vernea rocket engine fuel. Rasid walked over to a pale, angelic blonde boy overseeing the operation, bowed, and said respectfully, "Master Quatre, the mobile suit fuel has arrived as per your request."   
Quatre Raberba Winner beamed, and said cheerfully, "Thanks a lot, Rasid." Her jerked his thumb toward a nearby garage and said, "Just put them all over there." 

Just then, the truck driver walked over toward Quatre and, chewing a wad of tobacco as he did so, mumbled, "Hey, kid, da boss told me to inform ya that yer our Customer of the Month--yet again."   
In response, Quatre beamed. 

* * * 

"I'd like to talk to you about women," the slender, dark-haired Chinese boy hollered from atop a statue in the plaza. "I don't like them. They're weak and unmanly, and yet they insist that they're equal to us manly men! It is an injustice that we have to share our lives with women, and it is an even bigger injustice that women think they can do everything manly men like myself can accomplish. Women are weak, and they belong in the kitchen, barefoot and humble, and preparing dinner for manly men like myself. And another thing about weak women who think they can stand up to manly men like myself..." 

"...And on to the subject of ginger-haired Aryans..."   
One passerby stopped to watch the raving lunatic perched on the statue, shook his head, and tossed up a coin at the boy.   
"Hey, kid, go buy yourself a life with this," the man hollered up. Chang Wufei stopped raving about Aryans for a while, picked up the coin, dumped it into a satchel which was stuffed to the brim with pity money, and promptly jumped off the statue and headed toward the mobile suit supply store, muttering about the injustice of having to deal with Aryan men sporting ginger-colored hair all the way. 

* * * 

The cameras panned in for a close-up shot of Zechs Merquise and Treize Khushrenada, who were looking innocently into said camera.   
"What?" Zechs demanded. "We're in the military. All expenses fully paid (when on missions, anyway). 'Nuff said." 


End file.
